


The Jeans of Doom

by Astray



Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: GEORGE'S SKINNY JEANS!, Gen, Mitchell is insane, Skinny Jeans are to be blamed, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-04 14:31:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astray/pseuds/Astray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The mere concept of George wearing skinny jeans is enough to send Mitchell over the top and straight into insanity. Crack ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Jeans of Doom

**Author's Note:**

> I regret nothing. As soon as I heard this, I just had to write it. First Being Human ficcage for me. I just hope they are not too OOC - though really, the vision of Mitchell acting like that seems entirely too plausible for my brain to function.

Why on earth would George actually want to wear skinny jeans?

The question alone made Mitchell want to laugh... well, it ended up as something more aking to a very unmanly giggle. Though when you have lived as long as that, there are just things that you allow yourself to do. Just for the Hell of it. But really, skinny jeans.

“Stop it, Mitchell.”

“I haven't done anything!” Apparently, even doing his best to appear scandalized did not work on Annie. And from the look of it, she was not going to let him get away with it.

“Come on, everytime look at George you have this silly look on your face as though he was the most funny thing ever. Well, he is. Sometimes. Especially when he tries to convince us that all he does he does for a good reason or something.”

“You just gave me firsthand blackmail material, I hope you know that.”

“What? Absolutely not!” Now, she pulled the shocked look perfectly. 

“Sure did. And I don't have a silly look on my face, as you said.” This was ridiculous.

“Skinny jeans.”

No matter how deadpan she said it, or the glare she was sending his way, he could not help it. He burst out laughing. Again. 

“See? You're just like a kid! A century-old, silly kid!” Annie swiftly got up from the couch, sighing in frustration. 

“Come on, Annie. Skinny jeans! On George! Who the hell got that into his head?”

The slamming of the door warned them that George was home. And apparently not in such a jolly mood. Count on Mitchell to make it worse, but again, he had decades of practice on any of them. 

“George, you have to stop him! He's just going insane!”

George just looked at the two of them and from his expression, he understood it was not good for him. Even without knowing what on earth they were talking about. He did not need to know – he sure as heck didn't want to know. 

“If you want me to stop him from going crazy, I can't help you. He lost his head a long time ago.”

Mitchell stared at George in a 'don't-remind-me-how-old-I-am'-way. “Hey!” 

“Anyway, I really don't want to know.” A pause – and the face-splitting grin that just appeared on Mitchell's face was enough to scare him. Sort of. An angry vampire, he could deal with. A Cheshire-vampire? Well, not so much. “Don't say it, Mitchell, whatever you want to say, don't.”

Mitchell had the good grace to look -relatively- sheepish. Before the smile returned. Annie was getting tired of their antics – well, Mitchell's, really, but George is found to tag along more often than not. “Alright boys. George, you have to answer that question, so maybe Mitchell will stop being a creep.”

“What question? I didn't do anything!”

“Shame that you didn't, that would have been interesting.”

Annie let out an exasperated sigh. “Mitchell, shut up.” She turned to George, who had somehow managed to creep from the front door to the TV-set without being noticed. “George, some times ago, you mentioned a... let's say a fashion venture... that did not happen.” She sighed again, and she just knew that Mitchell was stiffling a snort behind her back. “Right, so one day you mentioned jeans and Mitchell can't get over it. So please, explain yourself so he can go back to normal.” Because I swear, I won't take that nonsense anymore. She did not need to say it aloud, it was clear enough.

George just stared at his housemates, brain working to try and come up with an answer – though he had no clue what they were talking about. That Mitchell could be nuts, that was a given and really, he never paid close attention to his various -stupid- ideas. Jeans... what jeans could they... and then, he remembered. He could not help but groan. Why on Earth did this bother Mitchell so much. And yet he had to wonder. “Can I just ask you one thing? Why does it bother you so much that I once considered wearing skinny jeans?” Even though you of all people were not supposed to know, which may be explained by a sixth sense warning me of your own childish reaction. He was getting way too good at hiding things from his friends. Or maybe that's just the force of habit or something. Possibly. 

“ Skinny jeans... George! I mean, that's so-”

“If you're going to say 'gay', I'll have to remind you that you are wearing such jeans at the moment.” There, he said it. And he was rather proud of himself, as he did not even raise his voice. And from the look Mitchell was giving him, he did not expect him to say anything of the sort. Not that it really upset him, if his shrug was anything to go by. That he did not defend himself was odd, however. 

“I was going to say weird. As in, weird to see you in these jeans. I'll just ignore the gay bit, because Annie is already thinking about it loudly enough for me to hear and really... you don't live this long without doing stuff you may not have in your lifetime.” Alright, maybe he was doing it on purpose just to annoy George. Just maybe. Though the choke it got from Annie told him that he hit the mark. 

“And why weird, pray?”

And there, Mitchell was stuck. He really had no reason to give, aside from the obvious: “You wearing skinny jeans is about as... preposterous, as me wearing baggy ones. Or orange scarves.”

“Not orange, it was apricot!” Now it was Annie turn to react. “And stop dragging me into this!”

“You dragged me into this, Annie!” Exclaimed George in a way that made the other two think that yes, George was master of the scandalized, high-pitched tone. 

“Your jeans started it, mate.” 

“Mitchell!”

“Just saying. Alright, so this whole thing was a spur of the moment?” Because this was what he wanted to know. Never mind the rest. Give a dog a bone.

“Alright! My girlfriend... from... before. She mentioned these and said she liked it. So-”

“You actually tried them?” There was no stopping him and Mitchell was faintly aware of his friends' 'I'm-going-to-kill-him'-vibes. 

“I did, as a matter of fact. And I hoped that she would be happy with my efforts.” 

Apparently, this provided Mitchell with a mental image because a split-second later he was nearly falling from the sofa, laughing like an absolute maniac – actually he looked like he was going to die and George could not help thinking that it would serve him right. 

“You never told me what she said though...” And there he thought Annie was going to save him. 

Instead of answering right away, George gestured to the laughing vampire that just slid onto the ground, clutching his ribs. “Roughly.”

Annie made a face. “Tough one.” She patted him on the arm in a comforting gesture – even though she was cold. It did not matter. 

“Well, it was embarrassing, surely. But at least she did not take any pictures.”

He shrugged and went to the kitchen, followed close by Annie – leaving Mitchell with his apoplexy. “Never thought it would have that effect on him. Is he high or something?”

“I swear, I did not give him any catnip.”

“Catnip?” He felt his eyebrows struggling to meet his hairline. “You're serious?”

“Something with vampires' sense of smell. Maybe.” She shrugged.

“No way.”

“Yes way. But I didn't tell you this.”

“Tell you what?” 

They turned to see Mitchell in the doorway. He looked like he had run a marathon, except for this half-smile he was still sporting. 

“You didn't die laughing, Mitchell? Strange, you seemed to be on the right track though.” And it made George wonder whether or not he heard them. From the way he started to pillage the fridge, he did not. 

“Tell you what then?”

“Hum... something about mail... and cats.” He was not such a good liar and Mitchell apparently managed to tell every single time so he kept it was close to the truth. “Pretty weird thing you know, crazy cats tearing out mail...” 

Mitchell glanced at George, wondering for an instant if he did not hit his head before filing it under the 'weird-things-George-says-sometimes-don't-pay-attention'-headline. Though some part of him felt like he did not want to know, at all. He was rather proud of being able to tell when ignorance was bliss indeed and that was one of them. Staring at his housemates once again, he found himself looking briefly at George's current jeans and his old train of thoughts came rushing back and... yes, maybe he could try and stop because giggling like a schoolgirl was not helping at all but...

Neither Annie nor George bothered with Mitchell with the rest of the day, even when he found a way to fall right into his bookshelves. After all, his personal lair could do with some tidying up – which they'll leave up to him once sanity comes back knocking at the door.

**Author's Note:**

> I am not even ashamed for bringing catnip and Mitchell together. Duh.   
> Apricot scarf came up because of a song I was listening while writing. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed it. Thank you for reading!


End file.
